The day I held you in my arms,
and watched you gasp for your last
breath:
                                             I was filled with anger and relief.

My heart pounds against the skin
of my chest; the beat drums past
my veins until I lose any connection
with it and it just becomes entwined
with the air around me.

Unnoticed.

But it's calm. It's quiet.

You're gone and it's okay;
you're no longer in pain that
I couldn't take away. The medicine
only held back the disease for so
long, till it ravaged through
your bones and spirit.

You weren't yourself anymore;
you never flew past my sight
with the same melody gracing
your sides.

You just laid there.

For hours.

For days.

For weeks.

I don't know if you heard me
crying as you took your last breath;
I don't know if you heard me
whisper that I love and will miss
every speck of your presence.

I don't know how the soil
is treating you, how the earth
has given you life and snatched
it away.

I just know that I will never
forget the memory of you
and how you're